When I Was Seventeen
I graduated early and took 9 hours my first semester. I lived at home, my father taught Thermodynamics and my mother taught Sociology. We were three a home, a younger brother and sister. My mother's religious beliefs varied with the seasons, Christmas was sacred but Easter was Spring Break. My father, an older man, a war veteran, saw things in order, an engineer at heart.
My mother had her thing, raised in a liberal home, she talked to me and my sister about sex, our bodies, what boys liked, what girls liked. She had been a girl of lose morals, until my father put her under his thumb. The same thumb that held us down. Now in college, my mother told me, have fun.
A guy who sat beside me called me a 'little girl', not grown up. He was also a veteran, my father approved of men who fraught, very mature for his age. I sat beside him, unaware of the class, I was in love. He walked me to class, kept an eye out for me, set boundaries little girls shouldn't cross. He told me, out there, in the real world, there were girls who had sex. But not me, sex was for later on, when I grew up.
I asked him to Thanksgiving. My father and he talked, we, the women, stuck in the kitchen. My mother said it was the way of men, women had their ways, in the kitchen. She sent me back to my room to change my bra, wear the one that let my breasts move around. And, wear flats, walk, sashay, move my hips. Entice him, not with words, with my hips, my breasts, my eyes.
After dinner, before coffee, I stood with my back to the bookcase in the den, my blouse open, my breasts visible, my nipple barely held by my bra. Entice him, my mother said, until he cups your breasts, and let him kiss. I stood, dancing back and forth, moving, his eyes focused on my breast, he reached and held my breast up with two fingers, I held his head with my hands, he leaned forward, I reached with my fingers and released my nipple and he 'fed'.
With a strong hand holding me hard against the wall, cupped between my legs he kissed me. No one saw, we were left alone. I told him I loved him, he told me I was a little girl. We went back to the dining room, my mother motioned to me, button your blouse, and we sat down. I may have been a little girl to him, but I was all grown up, he had kissed me, felt me up.
